STALWART AUVER 



A STORY OF MICHAEL MYERS 
ONE OF THE MOST NOTABLE 
FIGURES OF BORDER WARFARE 
AND EARLY DAYS ALONG THE 
OHIO RIVER 




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By Dr. Ef R. Giesey 



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Dedicated to 

MILDRED 



Copyright June 1912 
E, R. GIESEY 



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PREFACE 

Michael Myers, the hero of my story poem, 
and one of tlie most notable figures of border war- 
fare, was born in AVinohester, Virginia, in 17-1"). 
At fourteen he came with his father to near 
where ^Monongahela City now stands, and .settled 
on Pigeon Creek. According to Mr. Myer's state- 
ment, made in 1850, he had a part in a trans- 
action in 1774, which maj' have been the opening 
trouble of the famous "Dunmore" war, immortal- 
ized by the eloquent speech of the chief, Logan, 
which was inspired by a bloody event in that 
border contest. He took an important part in 
the battle at Point Pleasant; and was cliief of 
scouts, with Col. Crawford's ill-fat(^(I expedition, 
where he was twice wounded. 

Myers was a remarkably accurate shot, was 
over six feet in height, rawboued and muscular, 
and had the reputation of being the strongest and 
fleetest man of the Iwrder. His only pliysical 
defect was in his speech, on account of which he 
always prefaced his talk by a drawl, "auver," and 
he was given, consequently, the cognomen of 
"Auver Mike," which the author has again 
changed to Stalwart "Auver," the subject of 
the poem. 

When the Revolutionary war broke out. he 
was offered a captain's commission in the British 
army, but refused the same with disdain; find 
was afterward given a commission as captain in 
the Continental army, and assigned to scout 
duty, patroling from Mingo Bottoms to Yellow 
Creek. From this service come the incidents 
recorded in the poem. 






Myers made eleven trips in flat-boats to New- 
Orleans, disposing of his produce and returninii, 
overland. Returning- on one of these trips, with 
four others, they were overtaken by yellow fever, 
and all died, save Myers, who was afterward 
robbed by banditti, and after being befriended by 
settlers, in Kentucky, succeeded in reaching 
home. 

He preempted Section 25, on which Toronto, 
Ohio, now stands, and in 1799 moved his wife and 
four children from Pigeon Creek, Pa., to his 
cabin, which was opposite Fosterville, on the 
river bank. He died at the remarkable age of 
107. 

The author is so impressed with this wonder- 
ful life, that he only regrets, that he has not 
written a better story. 

E. R. G. 



"Stalwart Auver" 

"Should you ask me, whence these stories, 
Whence these legends and traditions," 
With their rythm and running metre, 
With their tone of jihouic nature. 
With their air of noble gentry. 
As from book or lore of olden ? 
I should answer, I should tell you, 
"From the homes of the contented, 
From the wigwams of the happy. 
From the land of Terra-cotta, 
From the banks of the Ohio, 
Where the warble of the songsters 
Cheers the gladsome hours of ^^'aking, 
And the bull-frog the chug-cliug-him. 
Mid the milky fog of evening 
Keeps the hours with song prolific 
In the land of the Torontos. 

Where the noonday smile of Phoebus 
Kissed the peaceful placid waters, 
And his image in the watere 
Was reflected back to Heaven, 
Like the blessings of the Father, 
Through his only Son, The Chosen, 
Brightens up the face of mortals. 
With reflections sweet, of Heaven. 
TSTiere the red man used to wander. 



STALWART AUVER 



Through the rush and groves primeval ; 
Knew no bounds to his dominiou, 
Knew no fears of an eucroachoieut 
From the Paleface, o'er the waters ; 
But at night, when chase was ended, 
Brought the deer home from the fallow. 
Or the salmon from the river. 
To the wigwam of his loved ones; 
With monarch'al pride he brought them. 
Though his slionldors loathed the burden ; 
Yet, the pride within his bosom, 
Wrought a smile upon his visage. 
As he lay them at the entrance 
Of the wigwam, and the children 
Gathered round to see the wonders ; 
While the mother's mimic frowning 
Told him of her heart's approval ; 
And her hand upon his shoulder 
Sent a mystic thrill athrough him. 
As the two hearts l>eat together, 
Like a cliordant strain of music 
Soothes the heart of one that's weary, 
So abode this humble couple, 
Aboriginal and happy. 
Ere the Paleface crossed the river. 
From the land of tlie Virginias. 

But then came his i>ain and sorrow. 
You may call it superstition. 
In the red man's fancy hidden. 
As he tells to us these stories, 
Of these omens, true in nature. 



STALWART AUVER 



"When the light of Heaven's sunshine 
Smiles the brightest, on his children, 
And the clouds have donned their richest 
Robes of splendor, for the coming, 
Of the rich High Priest of Pleasure, 
Then the storm cloud like a fui-y. 
Bursting forth in all his terror. 
Lightning, in his band uplifted, 
Terror on bis face depicted, 
Thunder in his voice tumultous, 
Strews the ground with trees uprooted, 
As though with the breath of anger. 

"When the fur is thickest, softest. 

On the raccoon in the Autumn, 

Then will come the cruel Winter, 

With its bitter lamentations 

From the mother and the children, 

Pinched with cold and weak from hunger 

And the father in his snowshoes 

Trudges, weary, through the forest. 

Day and night, in ipiest of forage. 

That his loved ones may not perish. 

He is ever toiling, toiling; 

She is ever waiting, watching; 

Hope and fear the balance tilting. 

In their hearts so brave, though sinking 

With the drear and vain forebodings 

Of the dread relentless famine : 

So is life in all its phases. 

When our lives are smoothest, brightest, 

And our hopes are tow'riug highest, 



STALWART AUYEK 



Then may come our sore afflictions, 
When our minds are least suspecting." 

So it was with fated red man, 
When our hero, "Stalwart Auver," 
Left his father, Chieftain I'aleface, 
Left his mother. Sweet Virjiiuia, 
Crossed the river, tlie Ohio, 
Where the brooklet,* "Merry Croxtoii," 
In the sunlight, of her maiden 
Beauty, clad in crystal grandeur. 
Pure and simple, bright and happy. 
Bounded forth, to kiss her lover, 
The Ohio, on whose bosom 
She has cast her lot forever. 

This is when our hero, Auver, 

In whose spirit rankled ever 

The monotonous and routine 

Life of a Virginia farmer. 

Trades it for a life of danger. 

Well he loved that tender mother, 

Eespected his aged father ; 

But his love was like his figure. 

Tall and Iiroad and strong, though rustic; 

Born to deal with wihler natures. 

Born to breast tlie storms and dangers 

Of the life his heart had chosen. 

We, whose dispositions savor 

Of a more refined, complacent, 

*Croxton's Run. 



STALWART AUVER 



Longing, for the quiet homestead, 
Must not chide him ; for his nature, 
Could not thrive in our domestic 
Way of living, more than we could 
Survive in his lonely forest. 

Auver left his home and loved ones. 
Plunged into the forest, dreary, 
Witii his flintlock,* "Limber Jinny,"' 
With his cow-horn-flask of powder, 
Hanging from his manly shoulder, 
By its cord of roe-buck-sinews. 
Clad he was in linsey-woolsey," 
Worn in those days, by the gentry ; 
On his head a cnp of bearskin ; 
Moccasins, of his own making, 
From buckskins, of his own dressing. 
These at once his wardrobe, shelter. 
To protect him from the weather, 
And his trusty "Limber Jinney," 
Was his only shield from danger. 

Thus our hero reached the river, 
Reached the river, the Ohio. 
There he climbed the giant birch-tree. 
Stripped it of its coat, and dropped it 
To the ground, and followed after; 
There with hunting-knife, and hatchet. 
Used at once, as tool and weapon. 
Made a rude canoe, and launched it 

''Called his gun. 



10 STALWART AUVER 



On the river, which no longer 

Was to seperate our hero 

For the life his heart had chosen. 

Then into the forest going, 

Where the Lightnings vent their anger 

On the giants of the forest : 

There the Lightning, electrician, 

Touched the oak tree, with the tinger 

Of his power, to burst asunder. 

There, from out the debris gathered 

For his use an oar, from Nature. 

Thus equipped, our hero, Auver, 

Launched out upon the river. 

With this unknown land before him ; 

While behind him, he is leaving 

Youth, and home, and i^eace, and pleasure. 

Stop, and think a moment, reader. 
Is there not, some place, some river. 
Of necessity or duty, 
From whose banks, of happy childhood, 
You have shoved your boat, and paddled 
Hard, to make the chosen lauding 
On the beach, of Life's lone desert? 
Is there not some event, epoch. 
Where your child-life, pure and simple. 
Is cut off ; and Duty tells you, 
Yovi must take up life in earnest? 
Yes, 'tis certain all liave crossed it: 
Some up higher, where 'tis narrow ; 
Some below, on broader waters. 
Where the damp fogs of oppression 



STALWART AUVEK 11 



Hover 'round the lonely boatman, 
As though to confuse or daunt him. 
Glide thou on, Oh mystic river, 
On your mission, to dissever 
Worthlessness from pluek and virtue, 
For upon your tide, will never 
Float a wreck that's worth the saving. 
But stop I This is not our story : 
So, we must return to Auver. 

These were days when courage, valor, 

Was the only refuge given ; 

To those brave and sturdy pilgrims. 

Who must breast the storms and dangers, 

To subdue the dreary ftu'est : 

^^'hen the red niau, sly and stealthy. 

Trod the hills and valleys over ; 

Like a sentry on the border 

Of the land, where he is ever 

Striving, to keep back invaders. 

Whom he thinks are crowding westward, 

'Til the land is overcrowded 

With the paleface ; and his axemen, 

Hewing down the mighty forest, 

Chase the wild deer, the peshikthe. 

And the turkey, the pelewa. 

From the hunting grounds forever. 

Then arose the angry red man, 
In his war paint and his fury ; 
Called his dusky warriors 'round him ; 
Filled his quiver full of arrows; 



12 STALWART AUVEK 



Filled the air with imprecations ; 
"Boasted of his strength and valor, 
Called our hero, "Little Paleface," 
Ordered him to cross the river. 
Then outspoke our "Stalwart Auver," 
Halt of speech, but strong of stature. 
Placable and court'ous always. 
Ever fond of truth and reason, 
Never willing to be driven. 
"I am come not to molest you, 
Am not angry with the red man. 
Covet not your squaws or wigwams, 
Came not here to steal your children ; 
But, in peace, to build my cabin. 
Live a quiet peacpful hunter. 
"Live and let live, is my motto. 
With those, who will act from justice ; 
But, to threaten and abuse me. 
Thinking, such intimidations 
Ever scare, or make me weaken, 
You are very much mistaken." 

So the red man, and the paleface, 
In those days of dire contention. 
Each (me, himself justifying, 
Sees the fault within the other ; 
Is prepared for wai- and bloodshed. 
This may not liave been their language. 
But it represents their trouble. 
When the British, o'er the waters. 
Forced the cniel Kevolutiou. 



STALWART AUVER 13 



Then our hero, Stalwart Auver, 

Ever true to frieud and neighbor, 

Caring not for toils or dangers, 

Is beset, by dire temptations. 

As the braided British captain 

Calls upon him uninvited ; 

Plies him with temptations, profers 

Of position, riches, honor ; 

From the crown across the water. 

Listen how the braggart argues 

To our hero. Stalwart Auver. 

"Now my friend, the war is on von; 

And the Rritisli, witli great armies, 

Are arriving on your borders. 

Laying waste your to^^■ns and cities; 

And the red man, in his war paint, 

Having taken up the hatchet, 

Now, is out upon the war path. 

Don't you see how vain resistance. 

And how futile are your efforts? 

May you not, Itefore to-morrow's 

Sun shall rise, and smile upon you. 

Be a corpse, unmourned, unhonored. 

And unknown to fame and glory? 

Why not leave this land of sorrow. 

Join at once our noble armies, 

Leave this land, that's blessed with nothing. 

Destitute of all that's noble. 

Filled with naught but pain and danger, 

Change that gaudy back Avoods costume 

For the scarlet coat that Nature 

Deigned your noble manhood worthy? 



14 STALWART AUVEK 



Do this, and I pledge my honor, 

As a Briton, as a soldier, 

I will make you a. great chieftain, 

CroAvn your name and fame Avith honor." 

Then our hero, Stalwart Auver, 
With this burning, stinging insult 
Blazing in his eyes and anger, 
Blurted out, or rather stammered, 
"Auver-ilike will never, never. 
Bend the knee or stoop to conquer ; 
Cares not foi' tlie approbation 
Of your king, beyond the waters. 
Will not recognize protection 
From the foul hands of a tyrant. 
Cannot wear your crimson garment 
With a clmracter more crimson, 
Will not trade for fame and glory 
Sacred names, of home and mother. 
Cares not, to be called a Briton, 
But an honest child of Nature." 

Here our hero paused abruptly. 
Stooped and pliu'ked a little flower. 
From the earth, — a little daisy. 
Long he stood, and looked, and pondered. 
With the air of one half dreaming, 
Gazed intently on the flower, 
'Til the Briton, lu-olce the silence. 
Thinking Auver undc'cided. 
"Well, what see yon ; has that daisy 
Wrapped your answer in its petals? 



STALWART AUVER 15 



Or atlirough your superstition, 

Do you ask it for tlie answer?" 

"No," said Auver, "I was thinking, 

It reminds me of the captain : 

Fair, and rare, and ornamental ; 

But no use tliis side of Heaven. 

I was just within me thinking, 

"\Miat a shame it was to pluck it. 

What a shame it is, that Yankees, 

Are compelled, such lambs to slaughter." 

Thereupon, the captain left him. 
He, who like a mortal touchstone, 
(Jrated on our hero's nmnhood. 
Found it all pure gold. Like nuggets, 
In that recent state, surrounded 
By the sand and loam of nature, 
Was our hero, when the tempter 
Plied the acids of temptation, 
Which could liave nf» pow'r whatever. 
But to cleanse, and make them brighten 
And reflect the light of Heaven. 

Such was each, and every comrade 

Chosen by our hero Auver. 

Such the AYetzels, such the Crawfords, 

Such the Poes, and such the Brady's, 

With whom Auver I'oamed the forest. 

Daily sore beset by danger. 

These were men whose Spartan courage, 

Tried, and trained, and educated 

To t!ie habits of the red man, 



16 STALWART AUVER 



And their rustic way of living, 
Gave their service to their country, 
Each on self and God relying. 

True and brave must be our hero, 
As he scoffs the petty proffer, 
Of the Briton from existence. 
Bares his bosom to the savage. 
Relies on his strength and courage. 
And a just God's approbation; 
Scorns a timid conservation, 
xVt the price of truth, and justice. 

Thus, our hero seemed forsaken. 

Seemed alone, despised dejected, 

In this lonely laud primeval ; 

Had no friend but, "Limber Jinny" 

With no hope, but fight and concpier, 

^^^^en the Yankees crossed t'.ie mountains. 

To the river, the Ohio, 

There, to build for the protection, 

Of their hearths, and homes, and loved (mes. 

Forts, along the crooked border. 

Where the river, the Ohio, 

Winding througli the lonely monutlets, 

Like an undulated serpent. 

Basking in the Summer sunsliiue ; 

Lying torpid, while is passing 

Days canicular, whih' Nature 

Takes away his dusky garments, 

Clothes him with a newer, brighter. 

Puts new life into his being. 



STALWART AUVER 17 



So this river, the Ohio, 

Through these days of border warfare, 

Is not used for navigation, 

By the red man, or the palefaces ; 

For upon its shores, are lurlving 

Foes in ambush, ever waiting, 

For the wayward, foolish boatman, 

Who should launch upon its waters. 

Then our hero, Aiiver, chosen 
For his couragi^ and discretion, 
For his strength and manly bearing. 
And his knowledge of the red man. 
Takes the task of daily watching, 
Daily watching and patroling 
Hills and dales and river bottoms, 
From the military station, 
Where tlie Yellow Creek is rolling 
Forth her waters, to the river, 
To the famous Jlingo Bottoms, 
Where another wooden foi-tress. 
Built to guard our baby nation. 
From the red man's depredations. 

Thus, ourAuver daily passes, 

From the one unto the other; 

Ever listful, ever watchful, 

Ever mindful of his duty. 

Dressed he was alike the red man, 

Quick he was, this child of Nature, 

In detecting, and perceiving, 

Sound and landmark, strange or foreign. 



18 STALWART AUVER 



Not conducive to the welfare 
Of the woodsman or his people. 
Thus equipped, with "Limber Jinny," 
Long and true and ever ready. 
Ever primed and ever loaded. 
Ne'er reclining on his sliouldei", 
Ever iu his hands rejtosing. 
Auver did the picket duty, 
For the continental army, 
From one fort unto the other ; 
Kept the red man from surprising 
Settlements mo>st unprotected, 
By his daily, unrelenting, 
Vigil, for his cause and country. 

Many times, our hero Auver, 

With the quick eye of the eagle. 

Sees the unbleached, dried, and silvered 

Faces, of the fallen leaflets 

Smile in rows across his pathway ; 

Or the tell tale weeds or sproutlings. 

In unison their heads inclining, 

Tell our hero, tliat the foemen 

Pass that way, in secret prowling. 

Many times, the foe audacious. 

By this scout was overtaken ; 

And was punished single handed. 

Ere he reached his destination ; 

Ere the red hand of the savage 

Was made redder in the life blood. 

Of the white man's wives and children. 



iSTALAVAKT AUVEK 19 



Once, while he was keeping vigil 
O'er his beat, anear onr village. 
Suddenly, and unexpected, 
Cajue upon the red men drinking, 
At the spring which now is running, 
Through what now is "Clark's Addition" ; 
With the instinct of the woodman, 
Auver broke the news upon them. 
Of Old "Limber Jinny's" anger. 
Straightway up the red men started, 
In their war paint, and their anger, 
To avenge tiieir fallen chieftain; 
They are scimriug hill and valley. 
For our hero who has vanished. 

Once, while with his frieuds, out gunning, 
*Where, to-day the white men gather, 
In devotional assembly ; 
Where the giant hills are rising. 
Like a wan, aroiind the camp ground. 
As though to shield, and defend it 
From all, save the power of Heaven, 
Auver heard the horse bell ringing, 
When they from the camp had wandered. 
And, when in liis ascertaining, 
If a wolf had scared their horses. 
Saw a red man, stooping over. 
Working at the spancel ratchet — 
Let us drop these bloody stories. 
And pursue his life domestic. 

*iHollow Rock Campground. 



20 STALWART AUVER 



Ere our hero left the homestead, 

On the distant Allegheny, 

There, he met his Catherine, 

At some huskiug, or log rolling. 

Or some apple butter stirring. 

Or some sugar camp, in Springtime, 

WTiere the scent of waking Springtime, 

Coming from Dame Nature's censor, 

Wraps the soul in mystic pleasure, 

Bathes the heart, like thoughts of childhood. 

With its soothing "Balm of (Hlead.'" 

When the daffodils are Making 

From the long sleep of the winter ; 

And the daisies, in their waking. 

Have cast off tliHir leafy covers. 

And poked out their little faces. 

Where the overhanging liranches 

Are uunfolding to the Father 

All the secrets of the Winter. 

Then the songsters, with these promptings. 

To their instincts, take to mating ; 

And their mating prompts the instincts. 

In the season of "God's Chosen." 

With these promptings, came our hei'o ; 
With our hero, came these promptings ; 
And, two hearts, by love made fusil. 
Ran the one into tlie otlier; 
And these hearts, so fused together, 
"Man must never put asunder." 

Of their courtship, we know nothing : 



STALWART AUVEK 21 



So, we must remain eoutented, 
lu our guessing, bow our hero 
Rubbed bis two great bands together ; 
Bored his heel into the puncheon 
Floor, far beyond which he is looking; 
Stammered out his "A-u-v-e-r Katie?" 
With his shoulder turned toward her, 
"Auver Will you" — Only listen, 
How the great, big, awkward, hero. 
Of a hundred thrilling ventures 
Coys before a simple maiden. 
"Auver Will you have? — Say Auver! 
Are you sick, or what's the matter? 
Shall I bring you some cold water?" 
"Auver — Xo I guess not Katie." 
"Then, sit right straight down and tell me, 
WTiat has made you sad, and thoughtful? 
Has your mother true, and tender. 
Died, and left you so dejected?" 
"Auver — Xo, she's all right, Katie." 

There he sat, upon the bottom 
Of the best tub in the cabin. 
Elbows on his knees he rested, 
While between his hands, are posing, 
Jaws, that never burned more sorely, 
Since the days of mumps and measles. 
Long he sat, and vainly pondered 
O'er the crooked proposition, 
With his whole mind centered on her, 
Yet, forgetful of her presence. 
Long he sat there, gazing blankly, 



22 STALWART AUYER 



In the embers, dim and waning; 
Seeking, in his listless gazing, 
For the piotnre of his longings. 

"Do Tou ever see things pictured, 

In the wan of burning embers'?" 

Spoke the maiden, interrupting, 

As she stood there in the gloaming. 

"Do you, in your oampfires burning, 

In your calm, and thouglitful moments. 

See strange pictures, of tierce red men. 

In their war dance, 'round their victim?" 

"I have often," said the maiden. 

"In the long and dreaiy evenings 

Of the winter, w'th my knitting. 

Sat down by our mammoth fire place. 

Held communion with an image, 

Which to me idealistic, 

JIakes me happy, and contented 

With my lot, so lone and dreary." 

Then, our hero Stalwart Auver, 
From his lethargT awaking, 
Says, he too can see the picture, 
With its rare and radiant beauty. 
"Can you Auver?" says the maiden, 
"Can you? Does it look like Auver' 
Is it tall, and brave, and handsome, 
Like the heroes, of fine stories?" 
"No," says Auver, "it is handsome. 
And as brave as any lion, 
And as lovable, and pretty 



STALWART AUVER 23 



As the fairies, in your stories. 
You liave seen it in tlie brooklet, 
When you stooped, to watch the fishes. 
Though, you're not a vain Narcissus." 

Then, a silence stole upon them, 
And they took to fruitless thinking- : 
All the while, their eyes concentre'd 
On the pictures, in the embers. 

Then, the maiden broke the silence, 

With this loo-ic, pure and simple. 

"If these two can hold existence, 

In that fiery heat together, 

Could they not withstand the scorchings, 

Of a ligher heat, domestic? 

If these pictures, we are seeing, 

Are so beautiful, and lovely. 

Would they not shine out the brighter, 

If they two were put together?" 

"Yes, I think they would," says Auver. 

Then, a hand fell on his shoulder, 

And his arm stole — Draw the curtain 1 

Reader they have solved the problem 

Which atlirough this worthy* paper, 

Has been marred, and sorely haggled. 

Would you wish to follow further. 

Since they've solved this leap year problem? 

"^Tien this cruel war was over. 

And these plighted vows were ended, 

*Printed in 1892 in the Toronto Tribune. 



24 STALWART AUVER 



In a happy consummation ; 

Then our hero Stalwart Auver 

Built his primitive log cabin, 

On the margin, of the river ; 

And this cabin, weak and puny 

Grew to *Newburg, then ^Sloan's Station, 

Then she married one *Toronto; 

It was built of poles and mortar. 

Puncheon floor, and clap board thatching, 

Riven door, with leather latch string. 

Chimney at the end, prodigious, 

Built of sticks and mud, while peeping 

From the side, a single window, 

Made of paper, made translucent. 

With the oily oi' of bruin. 

There he lived, and cleared the forest. 
Built his fences, sowed and gatliered. 
Through these years, while danger menaced, 
Till the days of peace and plenty 
Made his cabin more inviting, 
To his loved ones, four in number ; 
Then he brought them, to his cabin 
Brought them, in a flat-lxtat drifting 
Down the river, the Ohio. 

As this couple stood in silence. 
Pensive, yet, supremely happy, 
Hopepful, yet, with sad misgivings, 
Lonely, yet, on each relying, 

*DifFerent name for Toronto. 



iSTALWAKT AUVER 



Drifting, yet, to a great purpose, 
Weve they not, as we would have tliem, 
Brave and true, and good ; in keeping 
With our pride, and admiration? 
Is our hero more heroic. 
Than the one, who stood beside him. 
On the flat-boat, hjoking liopeful, 
Down the far-out-stretcliing river, 
T'ward tlie dim, and distant Canaan? 
As she views, with him, the falling 
Of the sun behind the hilltops, 
And the fading beams, auroral. 
In the misty, milky twilight, 
Like the pointed, and divergent. 
Fingers of the "hand of oaution. 
Is she nervous? Is she daunted? 
Does she call it a bad omen ? 
When they landed, near the cabin, 
And their scanty stores were righted. 
In their places ; and the children. 
Prom their crying and repining. 
For the loved ones left behind them, 
In their little beds are sleeping. 
And she's standing, in the door-way, 
Lonesome, waiting for her Auver, 
Does she take to useless crying? 
Does she scold and chide her Auver, 
When he comes in much belated? 
Not one word, of angry censure. 
Not one word, of discontentment. 
Not one word, to make the burden 



26 STALWART AUVEK 



Of our hero's life the greater, 

What it cost to be contented, 

What it cost to cheer the homestead, 

A^Tiat it cost to do her duty 

To her children, husband, Heaven; 

She, and God alone can answer. 

Stalwart Auver was a hero, 

And we laud him for his courai'i"; 

But, no man e'er had the courage 

[Manifested b_v the women. 

Who have faced the sore ]irivatious. 

Which our heroine has conquered. 

Here he lived and worked and ])rospere(l. 
Built another habitation, 
Larger, stronger, from the quarry. 
Of the hillside and tlie forest. 

Gone forever is our hero. 

Gone that faithful wife and mother: 

Side by side, the two lie sleeping, 

Xeath the* maples of their choosing; 

But, their name iind fame still living. 

In the hearts of all our pe(qde 

Is a source of pride and pleasure. 

To our willing admiration. 

Gone forever is the cabin 

And the lovely old stone luimestend. 

Leaving naught, but fame an>l honor. 

And the famous "Lind)er .Tinny," 

*First buried at Maple Groves — since moved to Toronto. 



STALWART AUVER 



27 



Which the only *grandson living 
Keeps with pride, and values highly, 
As an heirloom from "Grandfather."' 

*Jas. W. Myers, of Toronto. 



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FORT STEUBEN 



nil. 1 ^^^^ 



THE HERALD PRINTING CO. 
S^EUBENVILLE. OHIO 



